The Silence In Between
by lolcat202
Summary: Regina falls in love with Robin Locksley, a married man. This is a slightly darker, more complicated story than I usually write, and if it's not your thing, please feel free to skip it. I promise I won't be offended :) Life is complicated, though, and that's where this story comes from.
1. Chapter 1

April, 2013

She stands at the curb of the hotel, waiting for the valet to pull her car around. In front of her, a couple is loading up an SUV. A dress. The rear of the car full of wedding gifts. The bride and groom, arm in arm, exchanging kisses as the valet offers his congratulations.

Regina's stomach sinks into her heels. Somewhere in the hotel, Robin is on the phone with his wife, promising him that he'll be home soon. And she stands on the curb, alone, ready to make the two-hour drive to her empty house, her empty life.

 _This is it_ , she thinks. _I'll never do this again_. The valet pulls her Mercedes to the curb, and she climbs in. One last look at her phone – no new messages. She switches off the display and puts her car in gear.

August, 2012

She hates these Chamber of Commerce events. A night with small business owners, shaking hands and making small talk. She loves her job, loves being the mayor, but Regina doesn't want to spend her evenings working. She wants to spend them with Henry, and she resents having to pawn him off on Emma, of all people, while she's working. Emma, his birth mother, that he found by filching her stepdaughter's credit card. Emma, the cool mom that feeds him donuts and let him drive a jetski even though she expressly forbid it.

They're probably eating pizza and watching R-rated movies. Hell, for all she knows, they're doing tequila shots. She sighs and rolls her neck. Just half an hour more, and she can duck out.

"Long day?" comes a voice beside her.

She shrugs and smiles. "Par for the course," she says. "It's not easy being the mayor."

"So I gather," he says. He grins at her and holds out his hand. "Robin Locksley."

"Regina Mills," she replies.

"Yes, I know," he says, and she fights to suppress a shiver at his accent. Velvety smooth. There's something about a man with an accent, she thinks. She'd dated a Scot in law school – Graham – and the way he spoke to her made her toes curl. This man (Robin, she reminds herself), has a British accent, not quite as exotic, but definitely easier to understand. He also has deep blue eyes and a smile that makes her bite her lip and look down at her hands, afraid to make eye contact for too long.

She lets her eyes drift to his hands across the table. Strong and callused, a perfect match for his scruffy exterior. She wonders what it would feel like to take his hands in hers. She shouldn't be thinking that – she's the mayor, for God's sake, but there's something about his smile that makes her mind wander to dark, sultry places. Her fingers drift idly to her wineglass, stroking the stem. He matches her movements with his, fingers lingering over his whiskey glass. That's when she spots it, a band of gold on his left ring finger.

Of course. He's married. She pulls her hands back and tucks them into her lap.

"I should go," she says. "Circulate."

"Press the flesh," he jokes, and she nods.

"It was nice meeting you," she says. He smiles in reply and stands as she pulls away from the table.

"And you," he says. She turns away from the intensity in his gaze and walks as far away from him as she can, feeling his eyes on her with every step she takes.

She sees him less than a week later in the grocery store. He calls her name as she's checking labels on almond milk, looking for carageenan in the ingredients. No cancer-causing ingredients in her house. Her cart is filled with whole foods, fresh vegetables, and one package of Oreos in a vain attempt to bribe Henry into thinking she's just as cool as Emma.

Who is she kidding? She doesn't know how to work Henry's Playstation, even though she bought it for him. She reads comic books with him, but she can't remember which is Marvel and which is DC. Worst of all, she makes him do his math homework, whether he wants to or not. When she and Daniel adopted Henry, he'd promised her that Henry would love her, despite her fears that she didn't know how to be a mother. Daniel told her that he loved her more than anything, and how could this baby not do the same? She'd believed him. She struggles to believe him still, even though he's been dead almost as long as Henry's been alive.

She's thinking of Daniel as she studies the dairy case. She never drank anything but skim milk, thanks to her mother, until she married Daniel. He was lactose intolerant and introduced her to soymilk. She reads too much, though, and is convinced that soymilk will put her into early menopause, so she switched to almond milk two years ago.

"Regina," he calls out, and her head jerks up. "If that carton did something to offend you, I'll be happy to have more than a conversation with it."

She laughs at that and puts the carton in her cart. "Nothing of the sort," she says casually. "I just like to read the labels. You can just never be too careful." She surveys his basket – beer, cheese and ground beef. "Well," she says primly, one eyebrow raised, " _I_ can never be too careful."

He laughs at that and tries to hide his basket behind his back. "Don't judge," he says. "I'm spending the weekend alone and reverting back to my bachelor days."

Bachelor days, because of course he's married. "Where's your wife?" she asks, hoping her tone is neutral.

"Zelena and my son are visiting her parents out west. Is it wrong that I'm enjoying the peace and quiet?" he asks. "I have plans to watch sports and sit on the couch and eat crisps all weekend."

"Chips," she says with a laugh. "Here, they're chips."

He bites his lip. "Chips. Of course."

"Please tell me you're not going to just eat crap while you're alone," she says. She can't help herself; the mother in her won't shut up. "A salad? Just one vegetable?"

He reaches into her cart and plucks a red pepper out of her groceries. "Just one vegetable," he says. "For you."

June, 2013

She's finally relented and let Emma take Henry on vacation, despite her better judgment. She stares into the fridge, trying to figure out a meal plan for the week, before she realizes that it doesn't matter. For the first time in twelve years, she has nobody to feed but herself, but she can't bring herself to care about what she eats. She picks at a bowl of cereal, finally dumping the majority of it down the disposal.

Her phone rings. She pulls it off the counter, hoping that it's Henry calling, asking her to come pick him up.

It's not. It's Robin. Her thumb hovers over the screen. More than anything, she wants to answer the phone. Wants to tell him to come over, that she has the house to herself, that he can stay as long as he wants.

Instead, she turns off the ringer and places the phone face-down on the counter.

February, 2001

Henry won't stop crying. She can't blame him for that, because she wants to cry herself. She bounces him in her arms, trying to soothe his tears, but nothing quiets him once he starts going. Daniel always knew what to do – he could pluck the baby out of her arms, whisper to him while pacing through the nursery, and in a matter of moments, he'd be asleep. Daniel would look up at her as she leaned in the doorway of the nursery they'd decorated so lovingly together and wink at her. He'd place Henry so gently in his crib, pull the blanket over him and press a kiss to his brow. "We boys understand each other," he'd whisper to her as he led her down the hallway to their bedroom. "When we have a daughter, it'll be your turn to gang up on us."

 _When we have a daughter_. She'd loved his optimism. She'd loved that he always knew what to say to make her feel better. He'd pulled her into the bedroom and closed the door, whispering that he didn't want their son to be scarred for life by the way he was going to make her scream for him.

Her eyes well with tears, and she isn't sure if it's from the sound of her son's agonizing cries, or from the silence where Daniel should be.

"Ms. Mills?" the secretary says. "Mr. Blanchard will see you now." She follows the perky blonde down the hallway to the attorney's office, the first of many meetings to discuss Daniel's probate case.

Mr. Blanchard ( _Call me Leo_ , he says) is kind and soothing. This isn't his first rodeo, she thinks. What a horrible thing, to be a probate lawyer, to deal with death every day. He sits her down and pulls out the paperwork that they'd done before they adopted Henry. Just a precaution, based on her mother's advice. Nothing would happen to them, but on the off-chance it did, Cora wanted her daughter to be protected.

Things happen. A rainy night, a drunk driver, a visit from state troopers. Things happen.

"Ms. Mills," the lawyer says, and for the first time, she regrets not taking Daniel's last name. She's independent, a self-made woman. He never begrudged her that, but now that he's gone, she wishes she at least carried his name. She has nothing left of him, other than a small house and a tiny 401k that he'd barely contributed to before that night. "I need you to sign these forms," the lawyer says, and she picks up the pen blindly. He walks her through the paperwork, a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Regina," he says, as she tucks Henry into his carrier, "if you need anything else, please don't be afraid to call."

She won't call him, but she appreciates the gesture nonetheless.


	2. Chapter 2

June, 1998

They've just graduated from NYU and are taking advantage of the city's perfect springtime weather. In another two months, it will be humid and miserable, but today, the sun is shining and the air smells of new blossoms and freshly cut grass. Daniel is euphoric at his freedom; Regina is contemplating applying to law school. They're in Central Park, a picnic blanket spread out underneath them, her head on his stomach. After six years together, she's still shocked that he chooses to be with her. He brushes her bangs off her forehead.

"Regina," he says.

"Daniel," she answers with a smile, her eyes closed, loving the rise and fall of his steady breathing.

"Look at me," he whispers, and when she opens her eyes, he's smiling at her. "Sit up," he says, and when she does, he digs into his pocket. He pulls out a small black box, and his jaw works back and forth. She stares at the box. It can't be…

"Marry me," he says, his voice thick with emotion. Her jaw drops and she stares at him, and at the box, and back up at him.

"I had a speech planned," he continues with a wry smile, "but I forgot it. Marry me."

She nods, not willing to trust her voice. He pulls her to him and kisses her, and she finally finds her voice.

"Yes," she whispers. "Yes, always, every day, forever. Yes." He pops open the box and pulls out the ring, a round-cut diamond on a simple platinum band. He slides it on her finger and she holds it up to the sun, thinking that her hand now looks complete with the ring on it. "Yes," she says again, and he pulls her back down to the blanket and kisses her, again and again, until she forgets why they're in the park.

August, 2012

She can't shake the thought that Robin is lounging on his couch in his underwear, drinking beer and eating processed meats all by himself. She shouldn't even be thinking about it, but she can't forget his blue eyes.

She's a sucker for blue eyes. Always has been.

She tries to shake it off, keep focused on the to-do list she created for herself while Henry is at camp. She's taken the week off from work, and Regina plans to take advantage of it. Her first task is to pare down their wardrobes while Henry is gone, clean out their closets and get rid of unwanted clothing. He'll never forgive her if she throws away his favorite Spider-Man t-shirt, even though it's two sizes too small, so she's been waiting until he's out of the house to tear through his drawers.

At the end of the day, she can't bring herself to get rid of the t-shirt. She decides to hold onto it. Maybe she'll make a quilt out of his favorite shirts, when he's older. When he's ready to go to college and leave her behind. She can barely think of it, the day that he'll move out of their house, but she knows the day will come and she'll have no choice but to let him go, let him live his life. She made that promise to herself when he was a baby, and she intends to keep it.

She tucks the shirt back into his drawer and eases it shut. She has other things to get rid, of though; her own suits that are out of style, shoes with heels worn out, chargers that no longer plug into anything. She packs bags into her trunk and takes them to the recycling center, hefting plastics, bottles and clothes.

"Small world," comes an accented voice from over her shoulder, and she smiles.

"Small world, indeed," she says. She turns around, and there he is, smiling at her, brilliant blue eyes studying her. "So you're not spending the weekend drinking beer in your underwear on the couch?" She regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth. The last thing she should be thinking of is Robin Locksley in his underwear…though it seems to be at the top of her mind today.

He laughs at that. "Not at the moment, it seems," he says. He pokes through her bags, remarking on her clothing choices and her mismatched electronics. They exchange friendly banter for a few minutes, until he tells her that he should probably be going. He tucks his recycling bins in the back of his SUV, and turns to her with a smile.

"Are you eating?" she asks before she can stop herself. "I mean, more than crisps."

He laughs at that. "There's nothing more than crisps, Regina," he says. "Anyone who tells you differently is lying.

Before she leaves the recycling center, she's invited him to her house for dinner. She's shocked when he accepts the invitation.

Six hours later, lasagna is bubbling away in the oven and Regina is studying a bottle of wine, debating whether or not to open it. If she opens it, this will start to feel like a date, which it definitely is not. She tucks the bottle back into her wine rack and pulls a pitcher of iced tea out of the fridge instead. The doorbell chimes as she's pulling the pan of lasagna out of the oven.

When she opens the door, he's standing on her porch with a grin and a bottle of pinot noir in his hands. "My mother taught me never to show up at someone's house empty-handed," he says, and she laughs as she waves him in.

He follows her back to the kitchen, nodding as she says over her shoulder that she'll give him a grand tour of the house just as soon as she pulls the garlic bread out of the oven. She nods at the wine rack. "Glasses are over there, and the wine opener is in the drawer." He makes quick work of opening the bottle of wine but leaves the glasses on the counter, giving the wine a chance to breathe as she gently arranges slices of bread on a platter.

"You've outdone yourself," he says, and she shrugs.

"I haven't had a chance to make dinner for anyone other than Henry in a while," she replies. "I guess I got carried away."

Robin raises his eyebrows. "And Henry is…"

"My son," Regina says, pride obvious in her voice. She points to the fridge, where a picture of the two of them at the beach last summer is on display. "That's him in the photo."

"He's a good looking boy. Eight?" he guesses.

"Ten," she says. "That picture was taken last summer when we were on vacation with my parents in North Carolina."

"Ah," Robin says. His eyes drift to another photo, well-worn, with slight creases at the corners. Regina and Daniel posing in the middle of Times Square. "And I'm guessing this is his father?"

She nods. The next question is inevitable, and she braces herself for it. No matter how many times people ask, she always chokes on the words.

"It's awfully quiet here for a house with a ten-year-old boy. Is he with his father, then?"

Regina sighs. "No, he's at camp. His father…his father passed away when he was a baby." His chin jerks up at that, and he studies her face. Unnerved by his scrutiny, she looks away, busying herself with pulling out napkins and silverware.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he says softly, and she nods in reply. He takes a step closer to her, leaning against the counter scant inches from where she's fiddling with serving utensils. "Roland's mother passed away when he was born, so I know how you feel."

Her eyes widen as she looks at him. "But I thought-"

He gives her a wry smile. "Yes, everyone does. But Zelena is actually his stepmother. She's more a mother to him than Marian ever was, though. I'm lucky that she loves him so well, but it still hurts. I wish Marian had known him. She never even got to hold him."

She winces at the thought. Daniel's few months with Henry had been all too brief, but at least he got to know their son. She has the memories of him pacing the nursery as Henry cried, turning ballads from 80s hair bands into lullabyes for the baby. "I'm so sorry," she whispers. "That's terrible."

He nods, briefly lost in his own thoughts, before he looks back up at her with a smile. "It's past now," he says. "And he and Zelena are quite close. She tells him stories of his mommy up in heaven, and he positively eats them up. It certainly makes it easier that he knows that she's not his true mommy, because he looks like neither one of us. Every time we go somewhere together, we have to field questions about whether or not he's adopted."

Her hands still over the salad she's dressing. "What?" he asks, his brow creasing in concern.

"It's nothing," she says. "Just…Henry is adopted."

"Oh," he says, and she listens for hidden meanings in that small world. "I certainly didn't mean-"

"No, no," she says, waving off his apology. "It's fine. It's just been a little rough these past few months. Henry tracked down his birth mother, and it's been," she pauses, trying to find the right words, "an adjustment."

"I'm sure," he agrees. He reaches for the bottle of pinot and pours two glasses. "I hope I didn't offend you. I'd hate to be kicked out of the house before I have a chance to sample what smells absolutely delicious."

She laughs, grateful for the levity in his tone. "Not a chance," she says. "If I kick you out, I have to eat all this by myself."

He hands her a glass. "Now, milady," he says, offering his arm to her, "I believe you promised me a tour." She takes his arm and leads him down the hallway.

They eat in the kitchen; the dining room is a little too formal, a little too much for a friendly dinner. He compliments her cooking over and over; she jokes that she's in no danger of putting the town's restaurants out of a job. Regardless, he cleans his plate and helps himself to another generous slice of lasagna. He asks her secret, and she can't help but give it away. "Red pepper flakes," she says. "Gives it a little kick."

They talk about simple subjects – work, mostly, since that is after all how they met. He asks her about being mayor, speaking as reverently as if she were the president. He jokes that after what she does all day, running a sporting goods store is hardly a challenge. "Since I can't tell a football from a golf ball, I think it would be for me," she replies, and he laughs.

"Come in sometime," he says. "I'll give you a tutorial." She promises to bring Henry in to look for a new baseball glove. He's growing so fast that by the time baseball season rolls around again, he'll need one.

They shift to the couch in her living room after he finishes eating. She sips her glass of wine as he peruses the photos on the end table. "Who's this?" he asks, his index finger tapping on a smiling brunette with a pixie haircut, sandwiched between Regina and Henry.

"My stepdaughter," she says automatically, and he quirks an eyebrow at her response.

"Impossible," he replies. "Unless your husband found the fountain of youth or started procreating in elementary school."

She laughs at that. "It's a long story," she says.

He nods at the clock on the mantel. "I have time," he says. It's barely 8 o'clock, and she has a full glass of wine in front of her. What the hell, she thinks, and launches into it.

December, 2001

She's at the end of her third date with Leo before she even realizes that there had been a first and second date. He'd called her after probate wrapped up on Daniel's estate and offered to take her to dinner (You could use a night out to take your mind off things, he'd said). The first night had been burgers and fries; the second night, several weeks later, had been at a white-tablecloth restaurant. Tonight, they're coming home from dinner theatre in a neighboring town. Not as grand as Times square, Leo had joked, but Miss Saigon was playing, and she missed seeing live shows. Mary Margaret, Leo's daughter, is inside babysitting Henry, and she turns to him, intent on making a joke about how convenient it is to have a built-in babysitter, when he pulls her to him and kisses her.

It's a nice kiss, soft and gentle. A brush of the lips, a gentle squeeze of his arms around her waist, and then he lets her go. "I enjoy spending time with you, Regina," he says. "I hope you feel the same."

She does, and she says so. She likes talking to him – he gives good advice, listens patiently and doesn't judge her when she waffles about how to be a good mother to Henry. He turned her on to a good LSAT tutor and assures her that it's not too late to go back to school, that if going into law is what she wants, she'll find a way. She enjoys the way he touches her, as well. A hand lightly resting on her back or cupping her elbow as they walk down the street. A far cry from chubby fists yanking at her earrings or pulling her hair. He treats her as an adult, and for a woman who spends most of her time with a toddler, it's a pleasant break from the routine of bathtime, storytime and naptime.

He takes her hand in his – possessively, his fingers clutched around her hand. Not the way Daniel would intertwine their fingers, tapping his thumb against the base of her knuckles as they walked across campus – and leads her into the house. Mary Margaret is on the couch watching a movie, and she hops up as soon as they come in. She assures Regina that Henry was a pleasure to watch, and that he's been asleep for a good hour now. Leo helps his daughter into her coat and ushers her out the door, pausing in the doorway. "I'll talk to you soon?" he asks, and she nods. He leans in and gives her another brief kiss.

She shuts the door behind them and slides down it, unable to stop the tears welling in her eyes. She's held it in too long, and it all comes out – painful sobs as slams her fist against the hardwood floors, over and over again, until her knuckles are bruised and she's struggling to catch her breath. She begs Daniel for his forgiveness and curses herself, over and over again, for letting another man touch her.

When she wakes in the morning, she's still leaning against the door in her coat.


End file.
